A Thousand and One Nights
by trinfinity2001
Summary: During the sixth year of their journey, a first contact event makes Janeway rethink what she wants out of her relationship Chakotay. If you ever wanted an explanation of how we ended up with the travesty that was C/7, here's my attempt at one. Part 2 of my Three Wishes series.


2370

Janeway sat at her desk in her ready room, skimming Chakotay's report on the PADD she held in her hand.

"I have to _dance_ for them?" she asked incredulously, looking up from the reader to meet her first officer's dark brown eyes.

"The Vretel are insisting," he responded. "Evidently it's standard custom when they make contact with a new species. Dance is very important to their culture, so they ask that a society's leaders give a performance from their own traditions."

She discarded the PADD on her desk with a thud. "Well, at least it won't go down as one of our more unpleasant first contact scenarios," she said, frowning in memory. "That is, unless I trip over my own two feet and fall flat on my face."

He laughed at the image. "Remember, they don't know what they're looking at. You could do the macarena and no one from their delegation would be the wiser," he laughed.

"The what?"

"Ask Tom," he suggested, then seemed to think better of it. "On second thought, don't." Now she laughed, picking up the PADD again to continue reading details of the performance that would be required of her.

"So you have no idea what you'll perform?" he asked.

Her blue eyes peered up from the report again. "My dying swan solo went over well enough with all of you at talent night," she sighed. "I suppose it's the one thing in my arsenal. Damn shame I'm too out of practice to dance on pointe anymore." His eyebrows rose, clearly impressed that she'd ever been able to dance in that style. "But no," she sighed, seeming resigned to the situation. "Same as the crew, they'll get the version I learned when I was six."

She discarded the PADD for good on the desk and looked up at him. "You're sure there's no one else I can foist this responsibility off on?" she continued. "The Doctor? He must have some excellent dancing programs up his sleeve. Or what about Harry? Maybe the Vretel would appreciate a clarinet solo instead."

Chakotay laughed. "No, they were very specific. It has to be a dance." He paused in thought again. "The invitation did request a performance by the 'Heads' of our delegation, though," he pointed out. "Plural."

It wasn't obvious to her what he was getting at. "Do you have a conniving plan to get me out of this responsibility, Commander?"

"No," he responded. "But I might have one to make it a little easier. Or at least, more enjoyable."

Butterfies appeared out of nowhere in her stomach. Was he offering to dance with her? And how? She didn't dance anything other than ballet and she couldn't image that swaying with him to slow music for three minutes would pass muster with their hosts. Though, she had to admit, it would certainly be good enough for her.

He was still smiling as he asked, "What did you take for your art and culture credits at the Academy?"

Momentarily confused, she shook her head in memory. "Nothing. I got credit for the four years of ballet I took in high school. I skipped the art and culture courses."

This response was met with a knowing smile as if he were about to lie a full house of cards on the table. "I took Andorian poetry…and ballroom dancing."

Janeway guffawed. "_You_ took ballroom dancing."

"On a dare," he explained. "I have two left feet. But I _did_ manage to pass the class," he added smugly. "So what do you say? Care to dust off your high heels and I'll find the soundtrack to the Sound of Music?"

The man was out of his mind, but he had a point. How hard could it be? They could have a little fun, impress their hosts and finish with a new trading partner and ally. But the chance to indulge her emotions for that short time on the dance floor, knowing she could tuck her feelings safely away right after? That was the cherry on top. It was a perfect win-win.

_So why is it that I think I'm going to regret this?_

"It's a deal," she said, and he smiled back at her.

#

_I knew I was going to regret this. _

Anxiety overwhelmed Kathryn Janeway as she stood in the middle of the empty holodeck that afternoon. She'd agreed to meet Chakotay for a short lesson before the following night's ceremony. It had taken her years to learn to just point her toes correctly in ballet—how was she supposed to learn the foxtrot in two days?

_That's not what you're nervous about, _something inside her said.

At first his idea of a dance had left her floating on air. They'd have a legitimate excuse to be closer than they'd been in two years. Sure, they'd have no more time than the length of a song, but their would be fingers entwined again like on New Earth. She'd get to feel him against her for the first time in years.

In front of half the crew.

When she'd remembered that part, their dance suddenly didn't seem like such a lovely idea anymore. Over the past three years their relationship had cooled to the point where she almost believed the lie that they were just friends. It was automatic, now, their banter that toed the edge of flirting and friendship. She didn't have to think about how many centimeters she needed to put between them on the bridge or in the ready room in order not to feel sparks fly. There was tension but not passion, potential but no danger.

But if they danced, those centimeters of distance would be gone. There would be tension—and quite a bit of it, if they did the dance right.

_Why haven't I just thrown the Starfleet Book of Protocol out a damned airlock already? _

She was still mulling the question when the holodeck doors hissed open.

"Planning on starting an intergalactic incident, Captain?" her first officer called out sternly.

Janeway felt taken aback, her brow knitting with worry until a smile crossed Chakotay's face and that familiar dimple appeared on his cheek. He was pulling her leg, goddammit, and she had to admit to herself that she loved it.

"Oh?" she said seriously, playing along. "I'm quite good at causing those. Which one would it be this time?"

"The Vretel are staunchly anti-military. We were told to skip the uniforms, so it looks like you get to pack a dress," he explained, "And I'm going to be dusting off the penguin suit. Or didn't you read my report?" he chided playfully.

Oh, she'd read it alright, but right now she needed the uniform. It wasn't like she could carry the book of protocol around with her and literally hold it between them.

She pulled herself together and put up a fending hand. "Don't worry, I'll be appropriately dressed." How, she had no idea. Kathryn suddenly felt pulled into the bittersweet memory of the last time she saw him in a tux.

_No. _

Desperate to drag herself out of the past, she clapped her hands together and plowed forward.

"So. One first contact situation, coming right up. Are you going to teach me to dance for this thing, or what, Commander?"

The smile stayed on his face but in his eyes she thought she could see the briefest flash of disappointment that she was ending their playful banter. With a familiar curt nod, he began.

"You've danced, so this shouldn't be hard for you. The foxtrot has four counts and four steps. Quick, quick, slow, slow…"

Chakotay talked her through the basic steps and elements all the while standing next to her or in front of her. For almost half an hour they worked through everything without him ever laying a finger on her. His body and voice moved with the same confidence she'd seen from him over the last three years of their friendship. They were just the Captain and her First Officer.

_I can handle this_, she thought_. _

When he finally stood in front of her and placed his hand on her shoulder and took her hand in his, her nervousness had gone. Yes, she could feel the heat of his touch through the thick fabric of her uniform. Just as it had so many years ago, her hand seemed to fit perfectly in his.

_I can handle this_, she reminded herself, her heartbeat quickening and her stomach tightening. 

And then their eyes met. It didn't feel like sparks flying; more like a warp core detonation. Her breath felt sucked from her lungs. She couldn't speak, couldn't move—

"Kathryn, forgive me, but I think I might get in trouble if I break the Captain's foot."

She looked down and very clearly saw his boot poised to step on hers. A blush formed on her face, and she bit her lip out of embarrassment and looked away to the side.

"Distracted, much?" he asked.

She looked back up at him, seeing herself reflected back in the depths of those dark brown eyes. "Just tired," she responded.

He searched her face. She knew without a doubt that he could see right through her lie.

He dropped his hands. "Kathryn, I'm not trying to make you miserable."

"I'm feeling quite the opposite of miserable, I can assure you," she grumbled, half under her breath, looking away again.

"You're not the only one."

At his comment her head snapped back, her eyes finding his in that instant. He seemed so tranquil, so self-assured. It was like he didn't feel anything between them at all.

"Believe me, I get it. It's been a long time since we were this close." He took a deep breath. "But 75 of our own people will be watching like hawks. The genie's not going to get let out of the bottle in front of an audience like that. In the meantime, I plan to enjoy this for what it is: a dance between the Captain and her First Officer. Nothing more. Nothing less, either."

It helped, somehow, to know that he felt the same way she did, that he was fighting his feelings every bit as much as she was.

_And nothing less. _

She smiled gently at him, and nodded. "Aye, aye, Sir."

This time, when he took her hand, she felt not passion, but peace. By the next afternoon she felt confident that Voyager's Captain and First Officer could indeed give a command performance.

#

The afternoon of the ceremony, Janeway stood in front of the replicator screen, tapping her way through a catalog of dresses.

_God, I hate dealing with clothes. _She felt a pang of regret that she'd recycled the black off-the-shoulder number she'd worn when Chakotay had taken her to the ballet, not having wanted to stare daily at a reminder of their bygone relationship.

"Computer, replicate me a dress suitable for ballroom dancing," she prompted. "Formal evening wear. Color, black."

A neatly-folded pile of fabric appeared in the console and she gingerly picked it up to look at it. It was very stylish, or at least it would have been when they'd been snatched from the Alpha Quadrant. The body was velvet with a halter neck, but the skirt was translucent below mid-thigh. She stepped into her bedroom, slipping it on, zipping up the back-

_Oh, my._

The dress didn't have a back. It was appropriate for ballroom, yes, but for a Captain—not so much. She reached up to take it off.

And then she imagined the look on Chakotay's face to see her in it. She imagined his warm, strong hand on her shoulder, guiding her across the dance floor, his touch reminding her of the last time there had been nothing between his hands and her back.

_I'm going to lose my mind. _

She heard Chakotay's voice in her head. Every lesson he'd ever given her about living in the moment began to play itself on repeat.

_Screw protocol. _

Suddenly she didn't give a damn what the crew was going to think, or how un-Captainly the dress would seem. Kathryn took off the dress and hung it in her closet, and waited eagerly for the evening to come.

#

Tom and B'Elanna were already there when Janeway walked into the transporter room.

"I can't believe you talked me into wearing a _dress_, Tom."

"Hey, I had to stuff myself into a suit and put on a _tie_. Quit complaining. Oh—Captain. Wow."

"Nice dress, Captain," B'Elanna offered, stunned.

"Thank you," she said, tersely, trying to ignore the fact that she felt suddenly uncomfortable bearing this much skin in front of her subordinates. "Don't you both look dashing. Now is our First Officer planning on arriving or am I going to have to borrow one of you for this dance?"

As if on cue, Chakotay breezed into the transporter room, wearing an old-fashioned tux. He stopped in his tracks when he laid eyes on Kathryn, looking stunned. For a moment he was speechless.

"That's a…nice dress. Captain."

Janeway saw Tom and B'Elanna exchange a look and tried to ignore it. They hadn't left the ship yet and already the rumor mill was primed and ready. Did she care?

_Put your pips on and be the Captain this crew needs_, a voice inside her said.

_To hell with your pips_, said another, needier voice. _Go show your First Officer just how 'nice' this dress really is. _

"Thank you," she said, ignoring the warring voices in her head. "Everyone ready? Shall we?" she asked, gesturing to the transporter pad, wondering for the briefest moment just how much trouble this dress was going to get her into.

#

She spent the entire first half of the evening by Chakotay's side. It was her job, she told herself, and they needed to act as a unit for their hosts. Who cared if the real reason was that she wanted to give him every opportunity to look down at her bare shoulders or at the curve of her back? Not to mention, doing that while wielding the sword of diplomacy—oh, yes, she felt powerful. Sexy, beautiful, unstoppable—the universe was her oyster.

And then the music began.

"We're up," he said, taking her by the elbow as the other guests settled at tables.

For the first time all evening, her stomach began to tie itself in knots. She watched as the space cleared and the dance floor they'd requested became visible. The head of the Vretel delegation announced their performance.

_I can handle this, _she said to herself as she heard their song begin to play and felt Chakotay's hand take hers to lead her out on to the floor. The room was dark but she could make out the faces of her crew amongst the dozens of alien ones.

Her heart pounded, feeling the heat of his hand in hers and the confidence with which he pulled her forward. They stopped in the center of the floor and he took her right hand in his left, placing his other hand on her bare shoulder.

Fire.

Her shoulder was on fire. Everything around her was gone. All she could see was him, and all she could feel was his hand and how much she wanted him.

He nudged her backwards.

The music had started but she couldn't hear it. She was dancing mechanically, having picked up the beat from his footsteps and following his lead, her thoughts completely stuck on how goddamned wonderful it was to feel him touch her again.

"You're nervous," he commented.

"I'm fine," she lied.

_I can handle this,_ she tried to tell herself again. It was a good thing they'd practiced and were sticking to simple steps that she'd memorized.

"I've got your hand in mine, my palm on your back, and what feels like half the ship watching us, Kathryn," he said. "Don't think for a second that I'm not nervous too." She looked down.

_Kathryn. Not Captain. _

"Eyes up," he reminded her. "You could've replicated any dress," he continued quietly, "But you picked this one. Knowing where my hand was going to be. Don't try to tell me this wasn't intentional."

"What if it was?"

Ooops, she hadn't meant to say that. He looked at her seriously as they danced their way across the floor.

"The crew's watching, Chakotay," she pointed out, "And they very well may be listening."

"All the more reason why I'm curious you picked _that_ dress. Promenade?" he asked, suggesting they try a move that she hadn't quite mastered in their practice.

"Why not." They tried the move, and when they completed it, she breathed a sigh of relief, smiling with joy at their achievement. They were rewarded with claps from their crewmates and clicks of approval from the Vretel. She took his hand again. There was that fire again, searing her hand, yet making her never want to let him go.

They continued to travel across the floor. After a moment, she answered the question he'd asked. "If I told you the computer picked the dress, would you believe me?"

"No." He lifted his arm up to signal a turn. She stepped underneath, the fabric of the dress twirling spectacularly as she did.

More claps and clicks. She took his hand again.

More fire.

"Actually, the computer did pick the dress," she explained. "But I decided to keep it."

"It's pretty provocative," he pointed out. "Having second thoughts about keeping our relationship on hold until we get home?"

"Yes."

Wait, had she said that?

No, she'd made a promise. They'd agreed to wait. In fact, she herself had asked him to wait.

"Chakotay, what I mean is—"

And then music finished. They slipped on smiles to appease the crowd and took a bow. No matter that their performance had gone off without a hitch or that the crowd was clapping and clicking wildly. Things were spinning rapidly out of her control.

_I can't handle this, _she realized_. _

Janeway strode back to her seat, flushed with embarrassment, Chakotay on her heels.

She spent the rest of night doing everything she could to avoid both him and the reality that she really didn't want to let their relationship go.

#

Janeway sat at her desk in her ready room the next morning and scrolled through a PADD containing the day's schedule. The door chimed. She knew who it was.

"Come in," she said, staring at her coffee cup, wishing desperately she could avoid her morning meeting.

As he did every morning, Chakotay strode in and handed her a PADD with the day's briefings. "I take it we were a hit last night," he said with a smile. "The Vretel were impressed how well we communicated on the floor."

Janeway frowned. Yes, she'd heard a number of comments, particularly about the chemistry between the two of them, and those comments hadn't only come from the Vretel delegation.

"What's important is that it worked," she said, avoiding his gaze by pretending to read the PADD he'd handed her.

"Kathryn?"

She looked up.

"Stop pretending to read it and just talk to me."

She dropped the PADD on the desk.

"What's going on?" he asked. "You were avoiding me from the moment we finished last night. Sure, it brought up some old memories, but it's nothing we can't work out…"

"Isn't it?" she snapped. And then the dam broke.

"You touch me in front of 100 people and all I can think about is how much I want you. How much I need you. The world vanishes around me, Chakotay, do you understand? I stop caring about anything else but you. And I have so many other people I _have_ to take care of."

Her anxiety took shape in visible lines on her face as she continued. "That I might stop caring about this crew, getting them home…that terrifies me. I can't fail them like that. I can't fail myself like that. So what'll it be, Chakotay? Indulge my feelings? Hold fast to protocol?"

"We've got plenty of time."

"No. We don't." She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with air as if the oxygen could give her the strength she didn't think she had. "I'm not going to make us wait. I'm letting you go." There was no despondency in her voice, only certainty. It sounded almost like…

Like an order.

He looked as if he'd just watched a star go supernova to realize what she was saying. It took him a moment to recover his words.

"Kathryn, what are you saying?" He asked, but she could tell he already knew.

"You are patient beyond measure, Chakotay. But you don't deserve to wait decades for something that may never come. I'm asking…" She looked down at her desk, trying to gather the strength to tell him what she needed to tell him. "I'm ordering you to move on."

He laughed in disbelief.

"Kathryn," he laughed. "You can't order me into a new relationship. You can't order me to stop caring about you."

"If you care about me, you'll move on," she said. "If you're conveniently unattached when we get home, we can pick this up where we left off. But I won't stand in your way any longer."

"Last time I checked, everyone on this ship was in my chain of command. If I'm supposed to ignore protocol, why can't you?"

"Because the rules are different for me," she explained. "In all of the centuries of progress, some things have never changed for women. The moment I sleep with you and _anyone_ on the crew finds out is the moment my authority on this ship is undermined," she snapped. "I will not have people wondering again what's going on in the Ready Room, or in your office. You're still holding some parts of this crew together with spit and bailing wire and your sparkling personality. Sex will always be power, Chakotay. I won't have them thinking I seduced you. I'm not going to undermine you like that."

"You mean you're not going to undermine _yourself_ like that."

For a moment it felt like she'd been slapped.

He added quietly, "And you're contradicting yourself. Left and right, Kathryn. People already think we've slept together and they still respect us."

"Not all of them," she corrected. "Some of this crew doesn't trust me, Chakotay. Even after six years. They haven't trusted me since the moment we got lost. It's got nothing to do with Starfleet or Maquis and everything to do with the fact that I was the one to make the decision that stranded us here." She drew in a sharp breath. "You weren't the one to trap them here. I was. I won't disrespect my crew by galavanting around with my first officer. There are plenty of wonderful women on this ship, Chakotay. There's someone out there waiting for you. Don't keep her waiting."

He looked at her in disbelief. "You're giving up."

"I'm setting you free," she countered.

"No, you're taking the damned genie and the lamp and throwing it all out when you've still got one wish left. Who would do that?" He stood up and turned to leave, feeling a despondence settling over him like a black cloud.

"The day when you decide you want that wish back," he added, "Let me know."

And with that, he turned and walked away.


End file.
